


Wibbly-Wobbly, Timey-Wimey

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Master of Death, archiving old fic, commentfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master of Death is not merely a superficial title, but a functional one. This makes Harry's near-death experiences somewhat awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wibbly-Wobbly, Timey-Wimey

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of years ago now, in response to a prompt on a commentfic meme.

"You again!" Harry groaned.

The last thing he could remember was the pain of basilisk venom creeping through his veins; then he'd woken up in the not-place, and his memories of the previous times he'd been here instantly rushed back.

"Me again," the dark-haired, green-eyed man agreed. He was wearing red robes this time, with some sort of insignia stitched onto them, and held a familiar wand in one hand.

He was skinny and pale and his face held a sort of half-amused, intent look, and Harry did _not_ want to see him, because this scenario always did his brain in.

"Why are you wearing red robes?" Harry asked resignedly. He'd tried to ignore him, once, but the man was cheerfully impervious and rambled on confusingly about things that Harry suspected hadn't actually happened yet. Ignoring him was impossible.

"Because I'm an Auror," his much older self said cheerfully. "That's the magical police, to you. I was on duty when I ducked back here. I could have come another time - time's sort of a non-issue for me, seeing as I can go back and forth as I like - but I was doing paperwork, and it was rather boring, and I thought I'd appreciate the diversion."

"Right," Harry said, feeling slightly depressed. "Why are you here?"

There was a flash of a shrewd, piercing look that made the older Harry look suddenly, disconcertingly like Dumbledore, and he shrugged.

"You were kind of dying," he said vaguely. "Only you can't do that, because obviously, I'm _fine_ \- well, apart from dying far too many times over the years: you need to stop doing that - so I turned up to send you back before any time actually passes."

Harry wished he hadn't asked.

"But I thought I'd chat to you first, because dealing with my past self is really _weird_ , but interesting."

Harry wondered what exactly had happened to himself to send him insane.

He carefully didn't speculate about the fact that one day, he was apparently Death.

Not even a little. No. He didn't want to know.

At all.

"Anyway, suppose I'd best send you back," his older self remarked. "By the way, if you destroy the diary, Ginny'll be fine. I find that basilisk venom usually works for the sort of thing."

And he spun the ring on his finger.

* * *

...Harry blinked. Instead of fading away, the world seemed to be getting... clearer?

"Get away, bird," Riddle said suddenly. "Get away from him - I said get away-"

There was a loud bang and Fawkes took flight, but the phoenix returned a moment later to drop Riddle's diary in Harry's lap.

Harry stared at it.

Without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and brought it down.


End file.
